


ttyl

by strawberrv



Series: hot libra on libra action! [2]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Developing Relationship, Frottage, Internet Famous, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Modeling, Moving, Phone Sex, Pining, Public Transportation, Social Media, Twitter, sorta !! not that dramatic kjdnaskj, these are so vague but its not sad i promise !!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrv/pseuds/strawberrv
Summary: a month after they meet, hendery and yangyang are keeping it casual — hanging out, fucking, what else are friends for? but when hendery leaves town for work, yangyang begins to realize he misses him. like, a lot.between finals, moving out of the dorms, and hendery's mysterious tweets, yangyang has a lot to figure out this summer!





	ttyl

**Author's Note:**

> HENYANG FUCKERS.. I GREET YOU AGAIN  
> fhdsdhjkd ohhhhhh my god i seriously thought i would NEVER fucking finish this but here we are !!!!!!!! im proud of myself tbh this is the longest cohesive thing i've ever written wtf...  
> HUGE thanks to taz becca and kellianne on twt for humoring me, listening to me whine, reading excerpts, and reassuring me for the last month and a half kjnsdk i truly owe yall my life !!  
> again, please let me know if any of the chinese is off or weird, and i really REALLY hope this fic lives up to your expectations if u had any!!  
> the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2qATGSmPlrnS3xlk3kcofb?si=W6rkFr5XQE6x9yTyOo177A) has been updated also!  
> now let's see what these boys get up to in part two of dti verse ! oh if u haven't read part one uh.. do that i guess!
> 
> minor tw for some homophobia from yy's parents ! just mentioned, though !

**hendery dm me @qinhao_ Tweeted:**  
hey anyone else remember when hendery tweeted in german for a day and posted that picture with one of his hometown friends because i think about it a lot  
**> @qinhao_ Replied:**  
like why german?? who was that? why did he go on private? he was so cute?! was he the datong we couldn’t see the face of in that picture? hi im president of the hendery’s german(?) hometown friend conspiracy club  
**> @erhuii_ Replied:**  
dnkjasdnjks i’ll be vp.. sir dragonb00ts please come back 

  
  


“ugh, _damn_ it, dejun!” 

hendery pokes at his bamboo bundles, which are almost completely yellow, leaves curling in on themselves. yangyang watches him, smiling in amusement, stretched out on his bed. 

“what did he do this time?”

hendery turns to face him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

“he was _supposed_ to water my fucking plants while i was gone; he _didn’t,_ and now look at them!! you were right! yellow as fuck. dead. non-resuscitable. i’ve been watering them non-stop since i’ve been back, but it’s hopeless.” 

he throws himself onto the bed, dramatically flinging an arm over his eyes. 

“i’m in mourning, yang. don’t look at me.” 

yangyang hums, unlocking his phone and automatically going to twitter. 

“i’m not looking, hen.” 

out of habit he checks hendery’s profile, even though he’s literally curled into his side at this moment. his pinned is currently a picture that yangyang took, of him outside a storefront, glass reflecting light back at the camera. yangyang feels a small swell of pride, enjoying the private feeling of knowing something hendery’s followers don’t — that this is a piece of evidence of their relationship. 

which — their _relationship,_ yangyang feels weird even calling it that. it’s been almost exactly a month since that first whirlwind of a night; yangyang still can’t believe they technically fucked on the first date — they’re _those_ people. hendery has fit so perfectly into yangyang’s life, slipped in like a guest arriving late, it’s… almost weird to think he wasn’t there only a few weeks ago, that they were almost perfect strangers. 

they all hang out together, them and yuta and sicheng (though sicheng less often), hendery and yuta easily falling into step and cracking inside jokes as they walk around open-air markets and city streets. hendery always makes sure to include yangyang, though, beckoning him to keep up so they can bump arms, or explaining some of the more complicated history between him and yuta. 

as it turns out, they met through twitter years ago, before hendery was anyone, really, just an anime fan account (a detail revealed with surprising ease, no shame or reluctance to mark hendery’s expression), and yuta was the one with the larger following, developed from his ability to post screencaps and clips from episodes immediately as they were released in japan. hendery started following him, and used his admittedly extremely limited (at the time) skills in typing hiragana to try and thank him for his service, accidentally ended up insulting him, and through direct messages and a lot of japanese lessons, they found they got along quite well. 

and they still do; it continuously surprises yangyang just how similar they are in a lot of ways. they only consult each other on picking clothes in whatever outlet they’re shopping around, giving yangyang equally sharp looks when he tries to give his opinion. 

“it’s not that we don’t trust you, babe,” hendery said one afternoon, holding up an animal print vest to his torso. 

“it’s that you have one pair of sneakers and you wear them every day.” 

“ _every_ day,” yuta emphasized, poking his head out from behind a rack, looking pointedly at the beaten-up green and white offenders occupying yangyang’s feet. yangyang had blushed, and only gave thumbs-ups or thumbs-downs each time hendery emerged from the dressing room looking expectant. 

despite yangyang’s newfound social life, he still has school, and finals are now in full swing, end of semester looming. they’ve just entered july and yangyang is spending each spare moment at the library, unable to put off his papers and projects any longer to skip around the city with yuta and hendery, though that is, of course, preferable.

today is an exception, because hendery’s leaving tomorrow night; apparently his agency has deigned that he’s had a long enough break from doing shoots. they’re not exactly serious enough to warrant any dramatic send-off — yangyang’s not accompanying him to the airport or anything, but they can do this. a few weeks of fucking and exploring the city can warrant yangyang taking the afternoon to watch hendery pack his suitcase and carry-on. 

“ughhhh i don’t _want_ to,” hendery whines from beside him, burying his face in a pillow. yangyang just hums and pats his shoulder comfortingly, skimming through his timeline now. sicheng has posted something in japanese — no doubt some sappy but vague indirect for yuta to croon over. the two of them can barely be seen outside the dorms (another reason yangyang has been spending so much time in the library), preparing for their inevitable separation as yuta’s year of studying abroad draws to a close. a hand bumps his phone and yangyang blinks. 

“yangyang, i need attention. i’m dying. _wilting,_ just like my poor bamboo…” hendery’s tone is truly mournful, one would think his bamboo were a close friend tragically lost rather than a plant he bought on a whim when he moved in and promptly forgot about until a month ago. yangyang sighs, setting his phone aside and shuffling himself down on the bed so he can lay on his side, facing hendery’s dark head of hair where it blooms from the pillow. as soon as he feels yangyang settle, hendery turns his head, grinning close-lipped, the way he does when he gets what he wants. 

“hi,” he says, mood significantly improved. 

“hey,” yangyang replies, patient with him as usual. hendery kind of _is_ like his bamboo, when yangyang thinks about it. he needs lots of care, soaking up attention like sunlight, grouchy when ignored. yangyang moves a strand of hair from his forehead. he’s glad to serve as sunlamp. 

hendery wiggles closer, cotton of his sweatpants rubbing up against the fabric of his sheets as he propels himself. his tank top is loose enough that the lines of his ribcage are visible, pale and shifting as he breathes. 

“hi,” he says again, much closer this time. the tips of their noses are almost touching, and yangyang kind of has to cross his eyes to look at him. 

“you’re supposed to be packing,” yangyang reminds lightly, and hendery sticks his bottom lip out in a terribly sad pout. 

“yeah but then i got distracted by my bamboo, and you weren’t paying enough attention to me. can i kiss you?” he tacks on at the end, like he meant to ask when he started talking but only just remembered. 

“mmhmm,” yangyang says, and hendery leans forward to dispel the last few centimeters between them, and he’s kissing him, chaste. his lips are always soft, and yangyang thinks his own lips are always chapped, or bleeding from tugging at the dry skin as he works on assignments. but hendery never mentions it, really, he just kisses him, like this. he inhales deeply, and he’s always doing that when they kiss, like he gets a high from yangyang’s aftershave or something. regardless, there’s something nice about the warm air rushing out, across yangyang’s philtrum and cheek. 

hendery rests a hand on yangyang’s waist, and keeps kissing him in unhurried presses of his lips. yangyang’s eyes flutter open at one point and he’s greeted by the sight of hendery’s dark eyelashes resting above his cheekbones, black hair pressed into the pillow. he sighs into his mouth after another moment, and the hand on yangyang’s waist suddenly pushes into him, tilting his body until he’s flat on his back. hendery swings his knee over yangyang’s hips, and yangyang gets an inkling of where this is going. 

“you’re supposed to be packing,” he tries again, weakly, between kisses, but then hendery’s kissing down his jaw and neck and nipping at the soft skin there and yangyang thinks _well, at least i tried,_ bringing his hands up to run over hendery’s sides and settling at his hips. 

“i can finish in the morning, and i’ll just buy stuff if i forget anything,” he says, only a little breathless, words ghosting over yangyang’s collarbone. hendery’s usually like a live wire anyway, sparking and flashing, but it’s contained to himself in public, just making him jump up and down when he sees a shirt he likes, or laugh loud and shrieking at yuta’s jokes. he’s pale and a little jumpy and yangyang is always wanting to hold his hand, to steady him, for a second, before he hurts himself. 

but when they’re… doing _this,_ all that energy gets concentrated, electricity zipping into yangyang where their exposed skin touches, and suddenly hendery is strong and sure and deliberate, long fingers pressing yangyang firmly to the mattress. he’s like a lightning strike, aimlessly arching through the sky until he finds a patch of earth to his liking. he presses their palms together, and there it is, that quiet, almost unnoticeable zing. it lights yangyang up, singing in his blood. they’re a closed circuit, yangyang serving as his ground, his sunlight — whatever he needs. 

yangyang slips his hands under the loose-fitting tank top, feeling the gentle bumps of ribs for himself, the knobs of his spine pushed into a soft arch as hendery leans over him, kissing and kissing and kissing. he noses into yangyang’s cheek, shifting so he can get a hand between them, just smoothing over yangyang’s stomach and hip bones, for now. his mouth is busy with sucking a hickey onto his collar, and yangyang tilts his head to allow better access. 

hendery’s fingers apply gentle pressure as they go, circling around and back and skimming the waistband of his jeans. around the tenth time yangyang whimpers, and only then does hendery detach himself and busy his hands with the button of yangyang’s stupid jeans, which he only wore to go to class this morning. perhaps a bit naive on his part, thinking that all they would do is pack. 

afternoon light is streaming through hendery’s window across the room, and the neon signs are off, for once, and yangyang feels _warm,_ pleasantly safe. he moans when hendery pushes his knuckles against his dick over the denim, and there hendery is, back over him, closer than ever. 

“shh, dejun’s home,” he giggles into his neck. the line hendery gave about his room being soundproof was, most unfortunately, a lie, hendery’s only explanation being _i was just feeling kinda freaky, and besides, didn’t it work?_

and yangyang makes a huffy whining sound in the back of his throat, because class was shitty and hendery’s leaving tomorrow and now he can’t even be _loud._ it’s always more fun when he can be loud, when dejun’s out playing a gig with his band and hendery’s touching him just right and he can moan and pant and babble until he goes blue in the face. 

hendery presses again into his lower abdomen, pushing his thumbs over the lines of yangyang’s pelvis, and yangyang doesn’t make any more noise, but he pushes his hips up, heels digging into the mattress. 

“hmm, so needy,” hendery says, and pauses to remove his tank top. 

“bet you’ve been so stressed with all that homework, poor baby,” he coos, and yangyang nods absently, parting his lips when hendery presses close to kiss him once more. yangyang feels him grind his hips down, and the friction is almost too much, too sudden with his pants still on but then he does it again and it’s _good._

hendery sucks yangyang’s lower lip into his mouth, licking and dragging the skin between his teeth. he begins working another hickey under his jaw, arching so their hips stay aligned, and the sun is still on them and yangyang’s hot all over, feeling so good. he tells hendery as much, who responds by detaching his mouth with a smack and grinning at him. neither of them have made any more progress with their clothes, and the thought of taking the time to yank off his jeans makes yangyang deeply unhappy. 

“do you wanna get in my lap?” he asks, and hendery’s grin broadens, and he sits up so yangyang can get situated against the headboard. he also takes a moment to pull his own shirt off, wood cool against his back. hendery eagerly scrambles closer, legs fidgeting wider apart until yangyang can feel the press of his dick, hard against his own. he lets out a shuddery breath and they start up again, hendery dropping his head onto yangyang’s shoulder. 

call him a masochist, but the press of his zipper is just right through the fabric of his underwear, the denim heavy and stiff and ridged around the metal teeth. the head of his dick is rubbing just right against hendery’s length, still covered by the softer fabric of his sweatpants. yangyang’s fingers dig into hendery’s waist, skin smooth under his palms, as he shifts his hips back and forth and back and forth. they could come like this; they _would_ come like this, but the cleanup would suck and hendery seems to realize this as he leans back, dazed. 

“can i — can we —?” he asks, hands fiddling with yangyang's zipper, and yangyang nods, allowing him to pull down his waistband and underwear, before moving to his own, then shifting again, wrapping a hand around each of them and bumping their shafts together, even closer now. the press of bare skin is so much more sensitive, different and _more_ and yangyang bites his lip to keep from whining. 

hendery has to practically hug him to keep his balance and keep them close as they move together, bumping against yangyang’s stomach; he flexes to give them a firm surface. hendery’s breath is hot pants down yangyang’s back, and he smells so much like _him,_ like some expensive cologne that’s wearing off now, a little floral from his facewash, and something sharp and lineny and warm. yangyang presses his hands harder into hendery’s back; he wants him closer, and they’re chest to chest, hendery’s nails scratching over yangyang’s shoulders and back, panting and murmuring little screechy things like “ah,” and “please.” 

yangyang’s stomach is tightening, pressure building, and he asks, 

“are you — are you?” and hendery nods frantically, and if they were any closer they’d be molecularly fused but somehow they manage it, pressing and pushing into each other, breathing into skin and hair, sweat gathering in the line of hendery’s back. yangyang reaches a hand between them, hand wrapping around them both and jerking them together hard and fast, and in the next moments hendery holds his breath, going stock still. 

as he shudders out that stale air yangyang comes too, hand now slick with white, applying steady pressure as he works them through it. hendery’s shuddering, lurching in his lap uncontrollably, arms so tight around yangyang’s ribs he feels they’re going to shrink. the pleasure is palpable, and the room smells like sex, and hendery holds him close even while they come down. 

and then he keeps holding him. 

“just a second,” is all he says, a little hoarse and burning warm against yangyang. 

yangyang breathes through it. the sun has moved in the sky and they’re left in shade, tangled together. he tries not to compare it to a goodbye hug. 

then hendery leans back, smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind yangyang’s ear. 

“you can use the bathroom first.” 

  


they linger in the doorway about twenty minutes later, and hendery kisses yangyang's cheek. 

“thanks for helping me pack,” he says with a wink, and yangyang laughs lightly, biting his now swollen lips. 

“i hope the flight’s ok,” he says lamely. 

hendery lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. 

“i’m sure it will be. i’ll text all of you guys when i land in tianjin.” 

yangyang hums, leaning awkwardly on the doorframe. 

“ _and_ i’ll update on twitter. oh, actually i’ve been meaning to ask, do you follow me on there? because i post some really good selfies you could, i don’t know, bookmark and favorite…? admire me for a year without realizing we have a mutual friend…” he trails off, smile turned teasing, eyes shining. yangyang suppresses a blush and just laughs again, a little easier this time. 

“i don’t know… a year is a _long_ time to dedicate to some eboy i don’t even know.” 

hendery places a hand on his chest, affronted. 

“ _eboy?_ excuse you, i’m a professional model! with an agency and everything! besides, it’s so worth it because i skipped to the end when we meet, and i’m even hotter in person.” 

yangyang taps a finger to his chin, pretending to contemplate. 

“i _suppose_ i could give it a shot.” 

hendery grins, tugging him in by the hem of his shirt for a short kiss. 

“good. go on, now, write your thesis or whatever it is you collegiates do. tell yuta i said hi and bye! like, i’ll text him of course but still.” 

yangyang nods dutifully and they exchange small waves before hendery shuts the door. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
我回去工作了 :p  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/89431378..._

**@mengmi Replied:**  
still not over his fucking dn ndwnsjndnjdks next i’ll be getting notifs like “hundred💯ery Tweeted:”  
**> @weiqu Replied:**  
lmaooooooooo 

**@wwokil Replied:**  
ahhh good luck bby! 😘 

**@henderyskneecaps Replied:**  
u better do a beach photoshoot since it’s summer now 😤 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “i’m back to work :p” 

**@duckderyy Replied:**  
nooooo leaving hometown poor baby :( 

**@huanghensz Replied:**  
rip datong interactions  
**> @stan0ner Replied:**  
but more interactions with his agency friends!!!! :D 

  
  


though yangyang has no thesis to write, finals aren’t exactly a breeze either, and he spends the following two weeks biting his chapped lips over his laptop, over his notebooks, over crisply printed characters on several page packets in front of him. maybe he’s distracting himself on purpose, trying to pretend he can continue as though nothing has changed, but then finals are over and he has a week to move his meager belongings into the shitty off-campus studio apartment he and lucas have arranged to share. and then the paranoia sets in. 

or — ok, it’s not _paranoia,_ that makes him sound like a serial killer, but it is anxiety, at the very least. he spends the first day of summer break with his phone clutched between his thumb and fingers, still biting his damn lips, scrolling increasingly frantically through hendery’s twitter profile. he’s missed a lot during his academic preoccupations; he’d forgotten how frequently hendery tends to post when he’s actually doing things and not just rolling around in bed with yangyang or shopping with yuta all day. 

it’s selfies, of course, short things about how bored he gets during shoots, pictures of him in various exciting-looking places in tianjin, pictures of him with other very attractive people yangyang has to assume are other models. it’s everything yangyang would have eaten right up less than two months ago, liking and bookmarking and shyly typing out meek little replies only to delete them as soon as he thinks about hitting the send button. 

now, though, he can’t quite bring himself to do any of that. not even a single retweet. 

it just — it feels weird now! they _know_ each other, shouldn’t hendery just assume yangyang is seeing these? wouldn’t he find it weird for yangyang to continue his cheap little digital shows of support when he could literally just text him? especially now that his account’s on private at hendery’s insistence (the sudden influx of notifications had yangyang a bit out of sorts), it would seem even more like an obvious grab for his attention. whatever the twitter etiquette for meeting a famous eboy and then becoming friends with benefits with him for all of a month is, yangyang doesn’t know it. couldn’t fathom it if you paid him. 

it feels like everything has changed and like — it _has,_ duh, but it specifically feels like _he’s_ changed, and he doesn’t like it. he’s looking at hendery’s model friends with the perfect noses (there’s one guy specifically with a really perfect nose) with something bordering on jealousy now, idle wonder at his locations turning into an ugly little _need_ growing in his chest, and he has to actually put his phone down before he calls hendery up right this instant. now _that_ would be fucking paranoid and yangyang is not going to be that guy. 

it was a sort of promise he made with himself when hendery had kept… keeping him around? that he wouldn’t be overbearing or nosy, and _definitely_ not clingy. he knows he can be — it was the main reason yangyang’s high school girlfriend had cited for breaking up with him two weeks before graduation. 

_you’re clingy, yang-ah. just a little. you’re a sweet guy, but i can’t be with you every second. good luck with college._

the sharp tang of metal invades his mouth, and yangyang realizes he had unconsciously bitten down at the memory. he runs his tongue over the broken skin and flops backwards onto his mattress. god, he’s such a loser. a clingy, needy loser who can’t even decide what he wants to eat most nights, much less pick a major. and hendery is — he’s so the _opposite_ of that. he’s cool and a little mysterious and spontaneous and, and that’s exactly why yangyang needs to keep his neuroses _far_ away from him. 

he’s pretty sure hendery already knows he’s messing around with someone in a different… worse league than his own, but the last thing yangyang wants to do is go around _proving_ it. his fingers twitch toward his phone, but in the same instant it starts vibrating of its own accord, and after a moment of harboring stupid dumb hope that it’s hendery, somehow sensing his distress from kilometers away, he picks it up to see the caller id and immediately groans. 

**Mutter Liü** _is calling..._

of course. his parents had promised to call after classes ended, but he hadn’t expected it to be the literal _day_ after classes ended. knowing it’ll only be worse if he pushes this off, he reluctantly taps the green button. 

_“hallo, schatz!!!”_

yangyang closes his eyes in prayer. 

_“ah, guten nachmittag,_ mama,” 

“oh yangyang, it’s been so long! how was the semester?” 

the faint german lilt laid over standard mandarin is something yangyang will absolutely never get used to, and he’s still half convinced his parents put it on to make themselves seem worldly and properly traveled, not like they’ve been prancing around berlin and munich for the better part of five years eating wienerschnitzel and playing mahjong with the other foreigners. 

“it was good,” he says, rolling over and letting the phone balance on his cheek. 

“good, good, and your grades are alright?” 

she says "alright," but yangyang knows she means "perfect," betraying whatever frivolous european facade she’s developed. 

“yes, mom, i don’t see any reason my gpa would drop after final grades come in.” 

“good, good,” she says again, and there’s a pause, the actual reason for the call having been dealt with. 

“how’s dad?” he asks, tentative. 

“oh, he’s just fine; he’s out at the store right now but i’m sure he’ll call you later,” she lies. 

it’s still a kind of… open family secret that his father had been greatly disappointed when yangyang had chosen to move back to china for college. he wanted him to stick around and go to a german technical school for engineering. _why,_ yangyang’s still not entirely sure, but yangyang disappointing his father is not exactly out of the ordinary, either. first it was his interest in dance, then not marrying that girl, or even attempting to get her back after the break-up. 

yangyang senses the wall between them now, however, has less to with any of that and more to do with the whole… gay suspicion… thing. he’s never been _amazing_ at hiding his attraction to men, and before he realized it was something more serious than passing admirations, the damage had been done. yangyang could feel the fear, palpable whenever he’d mention hanging out with a friend, and there had been a brief period where he was forbidden from seeing one guy in particular — guenther, absolutely gorgeous belgian dude from school, obviously closeted and even worse than yangyang at hiding it. 

the _word_ has never been uttered; no accusation or even vague warnings, just unspoken, pre-emptive disappointment. yangyang thinks his mother’s probably just hoping he’ll find some girl and never tell them, happy even with a sham wedding if that’s the case. his father seems to have already convicted him of, and sentenced him for, the crime. 

“yeah i’m sure he will,” yangyang lies in return, trying to sound casual. he thinks in some ways it’d be easier if he was just outright gay; he could genuinely do the sham marriage thing and just move on with his life. but he’s got this whole bisexual… situation, so he thinks he should at least leave himself the option of falling in love with a girl and getting the good ending where he doesn’t have to tell anyone who doesn’t need to know, and he can still live happily ever after. needless to say he has not conveyed any news regarding huang hendery to his parents. 

“well, honey, i should probably get started on dinner, but good job with school! tell that — oh what was his name?” 

“lucas?” 

“yes, that’s right, tell lucas to keep your apartment in order!” 

“i’ll do that mom,” yangyang says, rolling his eyes at the idea of lucas like, cleaning or whatever. 

they exchange goodbyes and yangyang sets his now-warm phone on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling. despite the freshly transpired conversation, he can’t help but hope his phone will ring one more time. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
再见，天津!!  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/6348729..._

**@yuuwu Replied:**  
You’re so beautiful <3 

**@boomingsystemup Replied:**  
drop the skincare routine or i will die!! 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “bye, Tianjin!!”  
TN: Tianjin is a city in China, near Beijing. 

**@henderyanemic Replied:**  
all tianjin hendery stans: and i oop- 

  
  


“are you ready to move in?!” lucas rumbles, bounding up to yangyang’s side where he’s walking to the cafeteria with yuta and sicheng. 

“oh, fuck, hi lucas, uh yeah? i guess? i mean i still have to pack and everything but…” 

“i’ll help you! i’m not very good with tape but i can move your mattress!” 

yangyang rubs the back of his neck. 

“ah… jeez man that’s really nice of you. thanks again for letting me stay in the apartment, the housing application totally slipped my mind.” 

lucas appears a half-eaten granola bar out of his jacket pocket and brings it to his mouth to absentmindedly chew on. 

“no problem! we can’t have our club president out in the cold, after all! or… i guess the heat. because it’s summer.” 

yuta very convincingly morphs a snicker into a delicate cough. yangyang tosses a glare at him. it’s not like he and lucas are _besties_ or anything, but he’s nice, and took a liking to yangyang during orientation week, and he’s letting yangyang move into his fucking apartment on like, the shortest notice in the history of short notices. _and_ he’s been a loyal attendee of almost every meeting of the foreign language club since yangyang became president, so. 

someone calls lucas’s name from across the quad and he’s bounding away again after a slap on the shoulder that makes yangyang actually cough. 

“he’s so cute, but _so_ dumb,” yuta says fondly, peering around sicheng to watch lucas go. 

“i’ll bet he’s the kind of guy that thinks mutual masturbation is just being friendly. you know, this might actually be a hidden boon, yangyang.” 

yangyang coughs again, for a different reason, and pats his face to dispel the blush. 

“he’s _nice._ and he’s doing me a favor, so, even if he is a little…” 

“huge and dumb like a golden retriever?” 

yangyang frowns. “i was gonna say jock-ish… but — it doesn’t matter. my point is, he’s nice. ugh wait, what was my point?” 

yuta looks at him with horror and tugs on sicheng’s sleeve. 

“oh my god, it’s spreading. come back to japan with me cheng, or you might not make it out alive,” he says tearfully. 

“whatever,” yangyang continues dully, shoulders slumping, “i… can’t really see me and lucas, uh. well even really hanging out, anyway. i’m sure we won’t see much of each other once we’re settled — he goes to like a million parties a week _during_ school so i’m sure he’ll be plenty busy over summer.” 

yuta hums and gives sicheng a blinding smile as he holds the door open for all of them. 

they sweep the food options quickly, yuta picking up a dainty salad and yangyang grabbing a package of dry cereal. sicheng actually gets a hot meal, taking advantage of the last few days campus is serving them. once they’re settled at a table, yangyang across from the two of them and firmly fulfilling his third wheel duties, yuta gives him squinty, suspicious eyes. 

“you’re all...droopy.” 

yangyang blinks. “droopy?” 

“yeah,” he says, popping a crouton into his mouth. 

“not as bouncy as usual. like… deflated. sad yangyang.” 

he sputters, “i- i am not _sad_ yangyang. i’m normal yangyang. happy-the-semester’s-over-yangyang. see?” he grins, pointing to his teeth as though it would prove his non-droopiness. yuta narrows his eyes even further, points a chopstick at him. 

“nope. definitely droopy. is this about hendery?” he asks, semi-accusatory, like the way a psychic would scold disobedient spirits. 

yangyang sighs, contemplating denial but giving it up the closer yuta’s chopstick gets to his forehead. 

“god, can’t you like… mind your own business,” yangyang says, which is mean, meaner than he usually is, and he realizes yuta’s right — he _is_ droopy. a sad, droopy yangyang. yuta, unoffended, shrugs. 

“it is my business. hendery’s my best friend. you’re my… boyfriend’s roommate. the business has been clearly labelled as mine. now, tell me.” 

yangyang groans, putting his head down on his arms. 

“there’s… it’s nothing. there’s nothing to tell.” 

“lies,” yuta intones, munching loudly on a piece of lettuce. 

“sicheng, thoughts?” 

yangyang can only imagine the vaguely uncomfortable expression on sicheng’s face. 

“i… maybe we should leave it alone, babe.” 

“ugh, wrong fucking answer, cheng-ie.” 

both the pet name and the response remind yangyang of hendery. fuck. droopy. 

there’s a painful flick at the crown of his head and he sits up with a frown. 

“ah, there he is, my dearest boyfriend’s-roommate. now, spill.” 

yangyang groans again. “it’s nothing! like… i _guess._ i kinda miss him. just because he was around so much last month, probably. that’s all.” 

yuta rolls his eyes. 

“first, you’re in denial. second, get over it. _we’re_ the real tragedy here, it’s in the tabloids in osaka already i’m sure! we have to say goodbye _forever_ in mere _weeks,_ liu yangyang, and you’re crying over your eboy toy who will be back in town by the end of summer! i’m sick!” 

yangyang knows he’s being dramatic, but his stomach still twists guiltily, especially when sicheng softly says, “forever?” yuta kisses his cheek in reassurance and pats his chest. 

“look what you’ve done to sicheng, now! reminded him of our turbulent, fragile situation as lovers!” 

yangyang puts his palms up in surrender. 

“you’re right, i’m sorry, you’re right. it’s not that big of a deal.” 

yuta says, “exactly,” and poutily asks for some of sicheng’s soup, and then they’re doing this weird ritualistic thing involving the spoon and a lot of licking. yangyang puts his head back down. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
晚安 <3  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/7429237..._

**@wwokil Replied:**  
goodnight sweet prince! 

**@erhuii_ Replied:**  
this is such a lie it’s before midnight as if he’d go to sleep lmao hen sweetie just say you’re gonna watch three hours of one piece we understand xx 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “Goodnight <3” 

**@huangchickdery Replied:**  
sleeping so early? lol 

**@pinkreysluv Replied:**  
hendery: goodnight i love you hehe uwu  
henstans™: ur a liar and a bastard… u think ur slick? huh? 🙄 

  
  


that night, sicheng goes over to yuta’s dorm to help him start packing (though yangyang suspects it’s the same kind of "packing" he and hendery did a few weeks ago), so yangyang has the room to himself, and he plays khalil fong before deciding that that is only proving yuta’s point about him being droopy, and puts on oner instead. he’s half-heartedly organizing his bric a brac to be packed when it happens. 

**huang hendery (708,000+ followers)** _is calling…_

yangyang blinks, nearly drops his phone on his face (ok, he does, but no one needs to know that), and sits up straight before taking a breath and carefully answering it. 

“hey,” he says. ok, good, casual, not too obviously excited but not too stiff, he can work with th— 

“yang!!!!! oh my god i miss you so so much how were finals?! how’s yuta! and sicheng! are you moved out yet?” 

yangyang lets out a nervous little laugh, and all at once he realizes that this is their first phone call, that they haven’t spoken in two and a half weeks, and that hendery sounds different on the phone. some of the sharpness of his voice is filtered out, leaving it soft and crackly and — and _far._ yangyang swallows. 

“whoa, uh,” he says eloquently. 

“sorry, sorry, one question at a time, i’m just excited to hear about everything! so… school first!” 

yangyang bites his lip, then stops, then licks them. 

“well, finals were fine. i mean, trig killed but i think i made it through with good scores. yuta and sicheng are… sad? i guess. about the separation, you know, but they’re just spending a lot of time together.” 

“when _aren’t_ they spending a lot of time together,” hendery snorts, and it’s so familiar, the sound. yangyang’s chest tightens. he coughs. 

“haha, right? and, um, remember how i had to turn in that housing application like, weeks ago?” 

“noooooo you forgot?? yang!! you should’ve told me to remind you! oh my god what are you gonna do? do you need a place? you can totally stay at mine, i can let dejun know. shit, i have to tell that emo to water my plants anyway.” yangyang blinks rapidly, trying to imagine just picking up and living in hendery’s apartment, among the neon signs and wilting bamboo and dejun’s sad guitar music. 

“uh, no no, hen, don’t worry about it, i got a place. this guy i know is letting me crash. i mean, not crash, we’re gonna be actual roommates but — yeah. thank you, though,” he goes back to biting his lips. 

“this _guy_ you know, huh? who is he? do i know him? is he hot?” 

yangyang can’t tell just by his tone if he’s messing with him or not, and he wishes, for the umpteenth time in the last day alone, that hendery was here in person. 

“ummm… no, you don’t know him, i don’t think. it’s this guy, lucas? he was my dorm’s upperclassman guide during orientation week.” 

“ooooh an _older man,”_ he says, voice all airy and low — he’s definitely teasing now. there’s some shifting on the other end, and yangyang figures he’s getting into bed. 

“what’s up, though, you didn’t say if he’s hot,” hendery says, suddenly back to that flatter tone. yangyang licks over the puncture mark in his lower lip. 

“uh, haha, i guess? i mean, he’s tall and like… jock.. ish? so, if you’re into that kind of thing. a lot of girls like him.” 

hendery hums, and there’s the smallest pause. yangyang shakes hair out of his eyes. 

“so — what about you?! i saw you left tianjin, you’re in beijing now, right? for the uh, clothing brand?” hendery, among the brand deals he does on his twitter, is quite popular for clothing brands trying to sell edgier, modern looks. he's forever the pale, sharp looking rebel with a fake septum ring in his tiktoks, yangyang supposes. 

“yeah, yeah, for youngor. i’ll probably be in, like, a trenchcoat while riding a horse or something.” yangyang snorts, and there’s another pause. 

“hey, yang?” 

“...yes?” yangyang replies, suddenly nervous all over again. 

“you said sicheng and yuta are practically fused at the hip, right?” 

“oh, uh, yeah?” 

“soooooo… they’re probably not there right now, huh? you’re alone in the room?” yangyang doesn’t need to see hendery’s face to know where he’s going, now. it’s kind of a relief; this, he can handle. 

“yeah,” he says, short, preparing to get up and close the blinds. 

“mmm well what a coinkydink? i also happen to have a _whole_ hotel room all to myself.” 

yangyang makes his way to the window, tucking his phone between cheek and shoulder. 

“oh really?” 

“mmhmm. and i think we had really better make the most of this opportunity,” he says, faux serious, like they’re on a business call instead of initiating phone sex. yangyang flops back onto his bed. 

“well what would you suggest?” he can almost _hear_ hendery’s smile, wide and slow and salacious. 

“wow, i’ve always wanted to say this — _what are you wearing?”_

yangyang’s caught somewhere between a laugh at the cliché of it all, and being genuinely turned on at the way hendery said it. 

“god, are we really doing that?” 

“only if you want to babe,” and there it is, that check-in hendery always does, a little get out of jail free card slipped into his back pocket. yangyang takes a breath. 

“basketball shorts and a tanktop; it’s getting pretty hot on campus.” 

“mmm i bet i can think of something hotter.” yangyang bites the inside of his cheek, shifting down his bed so he can lie flat, hand resting on his stomach. 

“what would that be?” 

“hmm, i was picturing you, under me, with your hair messed up how i like? maybe moaning.” 

yangyang shudders, blushes. 

“i’m pretty much always moaning when i’m under you,” he mumbles, shy. 

hendery giggles delightedly, and there’s more shifting on the line. 

“you know, i just keep thinking about that first night…” 

“oh?” yangyang says, flipping up the hem of his tank so his hand rests on warm bare skin. 

“yeah. you were so… cute, and like… hesitant. but as soon as you started feeling good you warmed right up, didn’t you?” yangyang presses his thighs together, blood beginning to rush. 

“y-yeah. yeah. you always make me feel good, hen.” 

“mm i love to hear that, babe. are you feeling good right now? all warmed up and alone in your room?” 

yangyang forgets himself and nods, cheek sliding against the phone, and he blushes. it’s strange not to have hendery there beside him in this situation — he’s grown used to his familiar weight, pale skin warmed pink under neon light, dark eyes looking at him, reading him, seeing him. 

“getting there,” yangyang chokes out, nails digging slightly into the skin of his stomach to keep himself present. he tightens his grip around the phone. 

“well, i’m planning on getting you _there_ and further. i’ve missed you, you know?” he sighs, breath crackling over the speaker. 

“your voice, especially. all breathy and high when you start getting close — but we’re not quite there yet, hm? i just can’t help myself; all those little noises you make get me hard so fast.” 

speaking of hardness, yangyang’s tenting his shorts at this point, and he jerkily moves his hand to his waistband, pressing gently into the muscles there before slipping underneath and applying pressure over his underwear. 

“you’re hard?” he asks, maybe a little too obvious in his clipped tone. 

“oh babe, i’m so hard for you, i can’t get comfortable, i want your hands on me.” 

yangyang groans and rubs at the base of his dick with the heel of his hand. 

“see? you can’t make those noises yang, i’ll lose it, i can’t stand being so far away,” his voice is losing its fullness, going thin and wanton over the line. 

“me neither,” yangyang says, and his chest tightens again, and he’s imagining the warmth of hendery’s skin, the strength of his hands on yangyang’s shoulders, over his back. he huffs a breath and pushes his hand into his underwear, loosely gripping his dick. he feels sweat building under his hairline, beading at the backs of his knees. it really is hot in the dorm, the night clear and warm even inside. 

“i just want you on me, _in_ me, yang, with your face all red and your mouth all swollen. remember when you sucked me off in the dressing room, babe? you did so good, your mouth is so good, i _adore_ it.” 

yangyang flushes at the memory, the carpet burn on his knees, the stretch of his jaw — for once he hadn’t been able to talk during it, and it was probably for the best seeing as yuta was trying on clothes just across the hall. he tightens his grip and begins stroking himself, fingers pressing along the underside of his dick. 

“i remember. you — you looked so good, and you kept knocking your head against the hangers.” 

a breathy little laugh floats through the speaker, and yangyang bites his lip. 

“that’s right, i almost ripped that t-shirt because i grabbed it when i came — _god_ yang i want you, i miss you so much.” 

“you miss me?” yangyang asks, and it’s impulsive, it’s plaintive, and it’s so, so needy. he cringes internally, tastes blood in his mouth as he bites down, silence on the line deafening. his hand stills. 

but then, breathy and whining, hendery says, 

“of _course_ i do, my hand’s on my dick and all i can think about is _you,_ baby, your body and your hands on my hips, and, and how talkative you get — please, please, just talk, yang, i’m close.” 

as with everything else when it comes to hendery, yangyang can’t help himself. 

“you’re so beautiful hen, the way you look when you’re fucking me — like it’s everything, i lose it every time you’re over me, kissing me, riding me, whatever.” 

there’s more, more he wants to say, his tongue is bunching in his mouth with the words. 

_your hair’s getting long and it tickles me sometimes, just my shoulders and neck, but i like it because it means we’re close enough for it to happen._

“and your cock is so good, hendery, it tastes good and it feels good and i can never get enough.” 

_your face is better, though. your eyes when they’re hazy and your nose when it’s pressed against my cheek. and your lips, pulled over your teeth when you smile._

yangyang squeezes his eyes shut, pulling his dick out and jacking off in earnest. 

“and what else?” hendery’s voice is barely a squeak; he’s so very close, he’s panting into the phone with long pauses between while he holds his breath. 

“and it just — i just _feel_ good, hen, you make me feel good, i told you, and i never stop wanting you, i never get sick of touching you.” 

whoops — that’s dipping a bit into those words he’s trapping under his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to care very much; his hand is slick with precome and his stomach is tightening and the pressure’s building and, 

“i’m gonna,” yangyang says at the same time hendery starts coming, holding his breath, almost silent except for some rustling of sheets. 

yangyang sucks his lip into his mouth and rubs the sensitive spot just below the head of his cock and he comes, too, phone falling onto the pillow next to his head, warmth spilling over his fingers, onto his stomach, and his knees press together, and he keeps coming. his muscles tense and shudder and pleasure pulses through his bones, and his hips are jerking forward, tanktop ridden up and bunched under his armpits. 

he pants, mouth open, head heavy. he lets his body collapse and his comforter is sticking to his back. his hands tingle. 

he blinks, remembering hendery, and he quickly snatches up the phone. 

“hey,” he says, 

“hi,” hendery says, still a little breathless, but his voice is lowered and flattened to its usual register. he sounds happy, contented. 

“how are you?” he asks, and it’s curious, genuine. 

“i’m good,” yangyang replies, not really sure if he’s lying or not. 

“that’s good baby,” hendery says, and he sounds tired. 

“do you have to work tomorrow?” 

“yeah, but it’s just a little paperwork for the agency, no shoots or anything.” yangyang hums, unsure of what to say next. 

“do you wanna keep talking?” hendery asks, and there’s some shifting, what sounds like a bed creaking. 

yangyang clears his throat, “no, uh, i should probably get to some packing and… stuff. eat something, probably.” how lame. 

“hmm, alright then, text me when you can? i want pictures of the apartment too, once you get there.” 

“sure,” yangyang says. 

“ok, yang, i’ll talk to you later, then. bye,” he says, and again yangyang takes in how he sounds over the phone. far away. 

“ok. bye.” 

two beeps sound in his ear, and he drops his phone, reaching over to grab some tissues to clean himself up. 

he doesn’t get to packing. it’s not that late, just pushing eleven, but he finds himself exhausted. his chest still hurts, which isn’t really what his usual post-orgasm state feels like, so he decides to sleep it off. 

  
  


**hungery Tweeted:**  
我的男孩 萌 :)  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai/status/128498427..._

**@qinhao_ Replied:**  
DBDAJNKDJNADJKNWK SCREECHES ???????????????????  
**> @erhuii_ Replied:**  
OHY MGGFJKDN HELLO ?????? WHATDOES THIS MEAN HUANG HENDERYERHAEHBE (DIES)  
**> @qinhao_ Replied:**  
SHUT UP i’m making a thread 

**hendery dm me @qinhao_ Tweeted:**  
hendery said 萌 and i Know it’s connected to his german(unconfirmed) hometown friend: a thread  
**> @erhuii_ Replied:**  
cdhsjbdhsnkjf all oomfs r gonna mute ur ass hao  
**> @qinhao_ Replied:**  
and????? this is fucking important 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “my boy, meng :)”  
TN: Meng (萌) is Chinese slang literally meaning “sprout,” but used colloquially to mean “cute,” or “endearing.” 

  
  


the rest of the week sort of slips through yangyang’s fingers. he mainly spends time in the dorm, on twitter, not packing. or at lunch, with sicheng, not packing. and whatever else he’s been doing, he can say with confidence that it definitely, one hundred percent, hasn’t been packing. 

so now it’s ten p.m., fourteen hours before he has to be completely moved out, and his clothes are still in the closet and his books are still on that tiny bookcase, and he’s still. not. packing. stupidly, like the buffoon he is, he turned away sicheng’s offer to help this morning, assuring him that he was fully capable. so now he’s alone, not packing, looking at an empty box with anxiety locking up his muscles and joints. 

he contemplates swallowing his pride and texting sicheng — contemplates it a lot, actually — but sicheng never checks his phone, and yangyang really doesn’t want to ruin his and yuta’s last night on campus. yuta doesn’t have to actually leave until august, still a week and a bit away, during which he’ll be staying at sicheng’s family home off-campus, but still. 

yangyang scrolls through his contacts, rabbiting his foot against the carpet, hating being that person to call someone up and ask them to help him _move_ of all things; the most dreaded of young adult activities, just above taking people to the airport. 

his eyes catch on hendery’s contact, and he groans and throws his phone onto the bed, putting his fingers through his hair and pulling. 

he doesn’t know _why_ he’s being like this — why he’s been going through days as a droopy yangyang, why he gets disappointed when he gets a notification and it’s hendery tweeting, not texting him. he _hates_ being clingy, and he _hates_ wanting more; it’s like, his least favorite thing about himself, and it’s _clearly_ other people’s least favorite thing about him too! he just — he’ll find someone, and he’ll get so excited about knowing them that he goes all in. he’s the relationship nightmare they write about in those women’s magazines in the advice columns: he’s the double-texter and the clammy-hand-holder and the 20-questions-asker. all the most unforgivably desperate traits that no one wants to deal with — especially in a guy. 

so, when he got to university, fresh off of that break-up, his solution was to, basically, squash every single one of those pesky personality defects by keeping to himself. acquaintances were fine; sicheng, yuta, lucas and the like, but no close friends, and definitely no dating. at least for the first year, until he successfully reinvented himself as, like, a track star (given up after one semester) or a club president (still trucking, but does it really count if the last president gave him 150 yuan to take over?). 

sure, he’s let himself slip a little over the year; maybe sicheng and yuta are a _little_ more than acquaintances, but he’s largely stuck to his intentions. perhaps it’s why hendery’s thrown him off so severely — he’s dragged yangyang out of his sad little cocoon before he’d finished growing his wings. he wasn’t _ready_ yet, but hendery had no regard for that, just let himself in and made himself comfortable before yangyang could even think to turn him away at the door. it’s bracing, _he’s_ bracing, like a sexy, fun, internet famous spring wind, leaving yangyang breathless and wanting more in a way that his mental slaps-on-the-wrist can’t even begin to quell. he gave yangyang a full dose of huang hendery to last a month, and now yangyang’s all out, and the withdrawals are gonna kill him. 

luckily, before he can make himself bald or anything, yangyang’s phone chirps politely from across the room. he untangles his fingers, hesitantly approaching. 

**lucas gē**  
_hi yangyang!!!! i was just checking in, since you haven’t really been around the apartment yet? i’m happy to help if you need it! :D_

oh, right — packing. wait — fuck, _packing._ oh thank god. thank god and buddha and allah and any other man controlling the universe — yangyang owes each and every one of them blowjobs. 

**yangx2**  
_lucas! that’s so nice of you um actually i do kind of need help?? if it’s not too much trouble!_

lucas replies immediately. 

**lucas gē**  
_of course!!!!!!!!! :D i’ll just run over to your dorm!_

yangyang heaves a sigh of relief and falls ungracefully to the floor, only to jump up less than ten minutes later when there’s a knock at his door. he opens it to reveal lucas — a little sweaty and red in the face but with an eager grin. 

“hi!” he says, and yangyang blinks. 

“lucas — lucas did you actually _run_ here?” 

“yup!” he says, stepping inside and putting his hands on his hips to survey the situation. 

“it was just a mile from the complex, so i didn’t bother with my bike or anything!” 

yangyang blinks again. 

“lucas… do you. not have a car?” 

lucas turns, grin still firmly in place. 

“nope!” 

the previous bout of anxiety, still lingering, starts to curl in yangyang’s stomach again. 

“lucas. how are we. going to get all my stuff. to the apartment.” he thinks his hands are starting to shake a little. he’s not mad, he’s just — getting there. possibly. 

“take the bus!” lucas says brightly, like it’s obvious. like it’s fucking obvious they’d take the damn city bus with all of yangyang’s belongings in hand — including his mattress. he grits his teeth. 

“lucas it — that’s a little unrealistic! it would have been cool if you could have! warned me about that! maybe! i don’t know! just a thought!” he throws his hands up in the air, and he knows he’s upset about more than the bus but — whatever. he’s not even droopy yangyang anymore, he’s just frustrated. 

lucas is looking at him with wide eyes, grin long since fallen off his face. 

“oh… i’m sorry yang,” he says, eyebrows pushing together. he taps his thumbs together. 

“i just… that’s how i moved! so i guess i just figured…” he turns in a circle, looking at the room again. yangyang sighs, shoulders slumping. 

“hey i’m — it’s fine. i’m sorry i snapped at you. i really am grateful for the help.” he lowers himself to the ground again, pressing a hand to his forehead and pushing back his hair. he blinks hard, trying to focus. 

“ok, uh, i guess we should start with the little stuff, right? so…” he trails off, watching as lucas crosses the room with a couple of strides, kneeling down abruptly in front of yangyang. his hands twist together in his lap. 

“the bus runs all night, and no one will be on to bother us, probably, since it’ll be so late. i’ve been taking buses since i moved here from hong kong, and they’ve never done me wrong. i promise we can get you moved tonight, yangyang,” he says, and it’s the most serious yangyang’s ever seen him, face drawn and eyes set. yangyang feels a lump in his throat, and he blinks rapidly, opening his mouth to thank lucas again — but then his phone chirps from beside him. 

he frowns, attention effectively stolen, and he automatically picks it up. 

**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
十!  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/108493742..._

“is it one of those spam messages? i hate those,” lucas says, a little nervously, which sounds funny in his low voice. yangyang is hardly paying attention, though, he’s looking at the two pictures uploaded together with the simple caption. 

the pictures are blurry, looking to be taken in a club of some sort, but it’s clear who’s in them. hendery, of course, grinning wide and cheeks flushed, with another guy, one of the models yangyang has seen before on hendery’s profile; the one with the most perfect nose. 

he says, “damn it,” and then starts crying. 

he drops his phone and covers his eyes with his hands, sudden, jerking sobs rocking through him. 

“sorry, i’m sorry,” he gasps, and he hears a noise kind of scooby-doo-ish in nature, like “eugh?” and then there’s an almost shockingly large hand on his back, just resting there. 

“it’s ok!” lucas says, sounding very caught-off-guard. 

“was it — i mean, i guess it wasn’t a spam message… right?” a laugh bursts from yangyang’s lips, and he feels so _stupid,_ so out of sorts and histrionic, but he can’t stop crying. it’s like, half an anxiety attack, half just… being inundated by his stupid life. he shakes his head in lieu of speaking. 

“ _oh,_ ok, good, because like i hate those messages but i don’t know if anyone hates them _that_ much, but i didn’t want to assume in case it really did upset you! agh, but, is everything ok?” 

yangyang nods, still covering his eyes, trying to control his breathing. 

“...really? because you’re crying. i mean, you know that! but that usually means… everything’s not ok.” 

damn it. yangyang takes a deep breath. 

“‘s stupid,” he manages, voice thick and watery. 

“aw, come on, i’m sure it’s not! i cry all the time over movies and stuff! i cried yesterday because i saw this documentary on the ocean… i have _got_ to start recycling, like, seriously. but! your reason is probably better than that, so!” 

yangyang sniffles and uses the hem of his shirt to roughly wipe his eyes. 

“it’s… really dumb. i think i’ve just been stressed about this move all week and…” he looks around at his room, still unpacked, and shakes his head. 

“and then my boyf—” 

_whoa,_ fuck. 

“my — my, um. he’s this guy i know,” which is the same phrase yangyang used to describe lucas, and hendery and lucas being on the same level in his life is — so fucked up. 

“i _mean,_ ” he starts again, and lucas pats his back encouragingly. 

“we’re… friends? i guess. fuck. anyway, he um.” 

wow, is there _any_ way to describe the situation without outing himself to the guy he’s about to be living with for two months? 

“he’s out of town… right now. and, um, he… has a lot of other friends. out of town. and i guess i just… miss… him?” he pauses. 

“i just. miss him,” he says again. he looks up, at lucas, who is nodding sagely. yangyang blinks; the tears are beginning to dry and his eyelids stick together a little. 

“i miss him a lot,” he says, for the third time, just because it feels cathartic to say aloud. he takes a breath and blows it out through his mouth, disturbing hair that’s fallen into his eyes. maybe it could be that simple. he misses him. 

“that makes perfect sense.” 

yangyang blinks. “really?” 

lucas gives a lopsided grin, sheepish. 

“honestly i don’t really get it, but i know it makes sense to you! so that’s all that matters.” he nods once to himself, as if settling the matter internally. yangyang sighs, still feeling silly, but at least he’s not sobbing on his floor anymore. he sniffs, running his hands through tangles in his hair. 

“ok! ok. we can do this. right?” 

lucas stands and offers yangyang a hand. 

“we’re gonna destroy this move like goku destroyed vegeta when he went super-saiyan, bro.” 

  


unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take as long as yangyang was anticipating — as with all tasks he procrastinates on, it’s not nearly as bad once he starts. lucas stays far away from the tape roll whenever yangyang takes it out, as apparently he had a traumatic experience when he was younger in which he lost his eyebrows to some scary sounding double-sided stuff; he’d prefer not to go into detail. 

all yangyang’s clothes go in the small suitcase in the back of his closet, toiletries and charging cables and headphones all tossed into a duffle together, no doubt to be a horrendous tangled mess when this is over. all his books go in boxes, and lucas is surprisingly good at taking apart the shelves they were on, which go into another box. 

yangyang (quite sadly) removes his fan bingbing poster from the wall, and within three hours lucas is pulling his mattress off of the boxspring and leaning it up against the wall, a bit sweaty but otherwise unbothered. he dusts off his hands, putting them on his hips and looking proudly at the empty space yangyang’s belongings used to occupy. 

“see? no problem, no sweat!” the soaked back of yangyang’s shirt would disagree with that second point, but lucas is right, it wasn’t that hard. what yangyang suspects _is_ going to be hard, however, is the walk to the bus station while carrying yangyang’s like, entire situation. 

still, they manage it, yangyang with his duffel strapped around his chest, rolling his suitcase behind him, carrying the boxes one-handed, and lucas making the extremely noble sacrifice of taping the third and final smaller box to his hip (don’t ask how they did it, it took the whole rest of the roll), so he can carry yangyang’s twin mattress horizontally, sandwiched between his large hands. once they get downstairs, they look at each, nod once, and head out onto the silent campus. 

  


the bus ride is fucking surreal. lucas shoves the mattress into the seat space in front of them — “so no one steals it,” he says, eyes wide. “it’s happened to me before.” — and they collapse into their own seats, boxes by yangyang’s feet and duffel on his lap, with his suitcase keeping lucas company, tucked between his legs. the box is still strapped to him, digging into both of their sides as it rests snugly between them. lucas, again, was right; there’s no one else on the bus besides the driver and a couple of giggling drunk girls in the back. 

“i can’t. believe. we’re doing this,” yangyang says, letting his head roll back on his shoulders. lucas cackles, patting the suitcase affectionately. 

“i’m telling you, man, there is nothing that can’t be achieved with the power of public transportation. i wrote an essay on it for cultural studies.” 

yangyang just breathes, unable to even begin processing that information. the girls get off two stops in, the taller of them staring at yangyang’s mattress before shaking her head and being pulled out the doors by the other. 

once yangyang’s body returns to homeostasis and he thinks he might yet survive the night, he notices it’s a little chilly on the bus, air conditioning making its way to them from the front. he rubs his arms and looks to lucas, who is radiating warmth like a small sun, just bopping along to the weird, tinny music playing from the back speakers. he looks out the window with rapt attention, streetlights falling over his face again and again. 

yuta’s analogy suddenly pops into yangyang’s head, and he imagines lucas with his head out the window, tongue lolling in the wind. he snorts, and lucas looks over to him, faint smile still on his lips. 

“what?” 

yangyang coughs a little, mentally cursing yuta. 

“it’s nothing… just. thanks a lot for tonight, lucas. like, seriously, i don’t know how i can repay you for… everything.” 

lucas’s smile cracks open like a coconut, and he grins toothily before shrugging. 

“aw, man, don’t worry about it. end of semester’s wicked cruel for everyone, plus i get the feeling you have a little more on your plate on top of all that. besides, you’re my favorite freshman!” he ruffles yangyang’s hair, which has already been disheveled for hours, so he doesn’t bother to push him off, just huffing out a laugh and settling further into his seat. 

he doesn’t get to relax for much longer, though, because lucas pushes their button after another stop, and they’re heaving themselves up on shaky legs (well, in yangyang’s case), lucas hauling yangyang’s mattress down the stairs and onto the sidewalk while the driver looks at them incredulously. yangyang sheepishly waves, pulling out some crumpled bills to tip, and hurries out behind lucas. 

luckily the apartment complex is only just a block away from the bus stop, but it’s still a feat of pure willpower for yangyang. they trudge up to a very tall building, among a couple others of its kind, about ten minutes later, and yangyang blinks up at it, craning his neck to see the top floor. 

“like i said, it’s not much, but it’s technically made for two people, so,” lucas half-warns, readjusting his grip on the mattress. he puts it vertical to fit in the elevator, and yangyang sets down his boxes, stretching his aching fingers and popping his wrists, switching hands with the suitcase when the door slide open. 

from what yangyang’s seen so far, the building is decent, definitely better than the really packed complexes you see in shanghai, and when they make their way down the hall and lucas fishes his keys out, sliding the lock back and pushing the mattress through the doorway, yangyang is faced with an equally average apartment. 

there’s a little kitchenette, and a connected living room with a tv sitting on a stack of textbooks, and a three cushion couch across from it. as lucas implied, there are two doors next to each other on the opposite wall, presumably leading to bedrooms. yangyang’s too tired to have an opinion on his new home, and simply asks, 

“which one’s mine?” 

lucas points him toward the one on the right, and yangyang goes in first, finally, permanently, setting his boxes down, unstrapping the duffel at last, and kicking his suitcase into a corner. he helps lucas move the mattress in, and they just push it over right onto the floor, yangyang collapsing onto it immediately, bus gunk and all. lucas just chuckles kind of tiredly and says, “i’ll help you unpack in the morning, if you want.” 

yangyang gives him a thumbs up and mumbles out a thank you, and vaguely registers lucas turning off the light and shuffling away before he falls headfirst into rem sleep. 

  


he wakes up with a blanket draped over him, and his third box sitting in a pile of tape across the room, and, after blearily going over the night’s events, he decides that lucas would be a very good golden retriever, but he’ll probably be an even better roommate. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
午餐约会❤️  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/783249427..._

**@henderyskneecaps Replied:**  
label v models truly don’t let us breathe 

**@nuhailol Replied:**  
iconic duo!!! whens the shoot coming out 😍 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “Lunch date❤️” 

**@leecha1yapornkuls Replied:**  
agency interactions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

**hendery dm me @qinhao_ Tweeted:**  
ok now hui is saying the 萌 twt cld be abt that other model bc he’s been close w hendery for awhile and they’re hanging out lately but huis a dumbass BC hendery tweeted that the night BEFORE he landed in beijing which is where ten has been staying for weeks so DEBUNKED!  
**> @erhuii_ Replied:**  
do u srsly have to publicly drag me like this over an eboy conspiracy <<

  
  


even recovered from his exhaustion, yangyang still doesn’t really have much of an opinion about the apartment. settling in is easy enough — the next afternoon spent sitting on the floor with lucas, blasting some weird pop-punk music he put on and leisurely removing yangyang’s belongings from the boxes. yangyang doesn’t know why he didn’t expect lucas to be handy (probably just his general vibe), but he proves himself once again by putting yangyang’s bookshelf back together with ease, promising to grab a second night side stand from ikea, along with a bedframe and whatever else they might need with their combined cash. 

the view from the tiny balcony off the living room is mostly smog, but the skyline isn’t half-bad, and it’s not unbearably hot out quite yet, so yangyang ends up spending most of his first few days out there. 

it’s strange to be out of the dorm, where he’s spent the last year, but stranger still to be without hendery. he feels stupid (what's new) — he’s only known hendery for barely two months now, and spent time time with him in person for less, but he can’t help it. the tightness in his chest persists. 

he looks out over the city at night on the balcony, at the big led billboards, at the shops, crammed together in chaotic little rows, at the people coming and going from the complex below, and he lets himself be sad. just a little. 

school’s over and he doesn’t have a club to run, or classes to go to, or yuta to badger him during lunch. just lucas, who throws him the occasional concerned glance but otherwise leaves him be, picking up takeout for them both most nights. 

so yangyang sits on the balcony, fingers wrapped around the bars of the railing, and looks out at the city, wondering how it compares to beijing. it’s like, 

missing. 

it’s like, he misses him. as he’d told lucas a few days ago, _i just miss him._ is that so bad? to miss someone? 

but secretly, he knows it’s more of an ache. he even knows the word for it, but he’s not quite prepared to say that, even in his head, yet. 

he rests his forehead on the railing. it’s wednesday, three days before august. lucas is playing minecraft inside. it’s going to rain tomorrow. yangyang’s phone buzzes. 

**4cheng**  
_yuta says we’re coming over for dinner tomorrow._

yangyang frowns. 

**yangx2**  
_to lucas’s aptment?_

**4cheng**  
_yeah. he wants to see the place and say goodbye._

oh, fuck, right. a pang of guilt hits yangyang squarely in the chest; he’d almost completely forgotten about yuta’s impending departure. still, he’s a little miffed that yuta would want to personally say goodbye. 

**yangx2**  
_sure! i’ll let lucas know!_

  


lucas is more excited than yangyang when he tells him, and insists on an impromptu trip to the grocery store the next morning. he ends up splurging on a nice cut of chicken and a box of black sesame rice balls for dessert. 

how lucas plans on cooking it, yangyang has no idea, so he ends up nervously hovering around the kitchen while lucas gets out what few spices they have in the cupboards. 

“are you… _sure_ you don’t want me to help?” 

“nah, i’ve seen my mom do it like a million times,” lucas says, peering at a bottle of sesame oil while the pan warms up on the stove. 

though yangyang makes a mental note of where the fire extinguisher is, the process goes relatively smoothly besides a minor burn on lucas’s hand, and the chicken doesn't look inedible, after all. 

they’re setting the tiny table in the space that’s not explicitly living room but not explicitly hallway either, when there’s a knock at the door. 

“liu yangyang!” yuta shrieks when yangyang opens the door, immediately getting wrapped in a bony hug. 

“i’ve missed you! sicheng’s family is unbelievably dull!” 

yangyang glances at sicheng, who seems unperturbed, and awkwardly returns the hug. 

“you… did?” yuta pulls back, rolling his eyes. 

“duh, we’re friends, you funky little german!” 

he sweeps toward the kitchen, and makes a noise of delight when lucas greets him. 

“hey,” sicheng says, having hung back in the entryway. yangyang offers a smile, and almost finger-guns at him before he gets ahold of himself, but it’s a near thing. 

“hey, um, lucas made chicken and there’s dessert,” he says, shifting on his feet. 

“cool,” sicheng says, and yangyang remembers why they got along so well as roommates. 

  


the dinner is jovial, the conversation mostly dominated by yuta interrogating lucas about the enigmatic inner machinations of his mind while sicheng politely sips on his tea with an arm over the back of his chair. yangyang does his best, but he’s distracted, listless, still a little stuck on yuta calling him a _friend,_ and of course, there are the hendery thoughts, as always. 

“so, then, i run ten blocks down to the bus stop, right, because i can’t be late for this thing, and i catch the bus just as it was about to leave! like the doors were closing and everything, i fractured my toe ‘cause my foot got caught! but i totally made it to yuqi’s birthday party right on time!” lucas settles back in his chair, looking completely relieved as if he’s just relived the situation. 

“fascinating,” yuta says over steepled fingers. “what did you get her?” 

“oh man, she loves pickled radish so i just got her like this HUGE jar of the stuff, she loved it!” 

yuta closes his eyes for a moment, folding his hands on the table. 

“lucas, i’ve misjudged you. i think you might be one of the most intelligent men on the planet.” 

lucas goes bright red, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“oh, i don’t know about that, but thanks for thinking so, man! i like your boots!” 

yuta goes a little misty-eyed, and says softly, “me too, lucas. i like them too.” 

then, he abruptly swivels to sicheng with a blinding smile. 

“ba — i mean, sicheng! why don’t you look at lucas’s minecraft like you’ve been meaning to. don’t you two play online together?” 

lucas lights up. sicheng says, “yeah. he made an exact replica of the bowling alley downtown and i wanna see what he used for the pins.” 

lucas, practically vibrating, jumps up and says, “of course! i’ll boot it up!” 

sicheng follows after him towards the couch, tea in hand. yangyang feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he knows yuta’s giving him a look. the light pitter-patter of rain begins, and yangyang glances out the window to see the weather prediction was right; a light drizzle is starting up outside. 

reluctantly, he turns to meet yuta's eyes. surprisingly, yuta doesn’t seem overtly hostile, as he usually does when yangyang’s done something to displease him. his gaze is sharp, serious, and almost… almost concerned. he purses his lips, folding his arms. 

“it’s hendery, isn’t it?” 

yangyang feels his cheeks warm, and his heartbeat picks up, but it’s almost a relief to hear someone else mention him, to prove he’s not just some crazy sexy fun fever dream yangyang had for four weeks in june. he swallows. 

“yeah.” 

yuta sighs, looking absently over at the couch where sicheng is paying rapt attention to the tv screen while lucas gesticulates, controller in hand. 

“he’s like that, you know?” 

yangyang blinks, “like what?” 

yuta licks his lips. 

“hard to keep up with…? is how you’d put it, i guess.” 

yangyang hums, suddenly very aware that yuta’s known hendery for so much longer than him. it feels wrong, like an invasion of privacy, getting to peak at hendery through his best friend’s eyes. 

“he just moves fast. i think he gets bored pretty easily, so the travel is nice for him. but i get it. he can be a little slippery. like an eel.” 

yuta sighs again, seemingly deep in thought. 

“i don’t know… from my perspective, right, you’re the type to get serious quickly. you like someone, and you like them. you want to spend time with them, know where you stand, etcetera. fair?” 

yangyang nods, twisting his ankles together under his chair. 

“ok. so here’s the part where i blow your mind. you probably have this idea of hen, like, he’s _spontaneous,_ and doesn’t wanna be _tied down._ and it’s worse from your perspective, because you know him as: hendery with hundreds of thousands of twitter followers, signed to an agency, untouchable, rolling with all these other beautiful people and probably getting dick left and right. well — that part is kind of accurate but, the point is,” 

yuta sits up straight, turns in his chair to face yangyang directly. 

“all of it? _kinda_ bullshit. like, up until a year ago? he was broke, dejun was on the verge of kicking his ass out, and he had, like, what? 50-ish? followers? on _tiktok._ he got famous, _fast;_ that’ll at least minorly fuck with your head. he had to learn how to protect himself. so like, i get it. if i met him now, i’d be intimidated too,” 

yangyang opens his mouth to object, but yuta holds up a palm. 

“i’m giving you cheat codes, don’t interrupt.” yangyang bites his tongue. 

“so. the real gag is this: all that stuff i said before about you? about getting serious fast and knowing where you stand? yeah, copy and paste that into hen’s biography. he _loves_ that shit. he’s taught himself this no-attachment style of loving this last year, travelling and being mysterious and everything, but yangyang i fucking _guarantee_ you that if you tell him how you feel — whatever that may be — he’ll be just as relieved. i’ll bet he’s sitting up in that bougie fucking hotel room right this second, twiddling his thumbs about this whole thing. 'oh, what does yangyang want from this? does he miss me? i couldn't _possibly_ solve all my problems by being transparent and talking to him like a normal fucking person.'” 

yuta sits back, rolling his eyes, crossing his arms. yangyang, trying to imagine hendery twiddling his thumbs, takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. 

“are you —” 

“yes, i’m sure,” yuta interrupts him, casually taking a sip of his tea. 

“what if he —” 

“you’ll never know unless you try,” he sing-songs. 

yangyang bites the inside of his cheek, at a loss. it feels… both too easy and like he’s just been given the most difficult task of his life. he supposes it’s not too hard to imagine — once he drops everything that yuta just debunked about hendery in his mind, he starts to get the picture a little clearer. hendery, a little too loud, a little jumpy and quick to laugh his way out of uncomfortable situations. hendery, casting sidelong glances at him as they walk down the street. hendery, staring at yangyang all night with those dark, curious eyes, asking, 

_can i know you?_

hendery, coy, asking for everything but what he wants. 

fuck. 

yuta pats his shoulder, stands, and stretches his arms above his head. 

“sicheng, i’ve completed my duty! i want yogurt now!” 

a couple minutes later, yuta and sicheng are standing in the entryway once again, and once again yangyang is being crushed by yuta’s wiry arms. 

“you’d better fucking text me about this, i mean — i’ll be getting it from hendery obviously, but i want both sides. and check in on sicheng, just occasionally, ok? promise?” 

yuta sounds a little odd, bordering on pouty, a little frantic. it kind of reminds yangyang of hendery, trying to say everything all at once. 

“i promise,” he says, and he means it. 

yuta detaches, squeezes his shoulders one last time, and nods. he turns to lucas. 

“lucas, your chicken was dry, but you are one of my top ten people. tell yuqi i said happy late birthday. look after yangyang; he’s a little lovesick right now but he’s usually more fun.” 

yangyang sputters, face warming, but yuta is already giving them semi-tearful goodbyes, and sicheng is smiling and thanking them for dinner, and like that, nakamoto yuta’s brief but handsome, and surprisingly helpful, presence in yangyang’s life comes to its end. yangyang locks the door behind them. 

  
  


**huang hendery (754,000+ followers)** _is calling…_

yangyang blinks awake. it’s dark in his room besides the faint blue light his phone is emitting as it buzzes. he rolls over with a groan, swallowing over his dry throat, but as soon as he sees the caller id he’s fully conscious. 

“hey,” he says into the receiver, too caught-off-guard to prepare much more. 

“hi, yang,” hendery says, and he’s speaking quietly, softly. 

“did i wake you?” 

yangyang sits up on his mattress (still on the floor, though with proper sheets now) and clears his throat. 

“yeah, but i mean it’s only…” he pulls the phone away from his face to check the time. 

“...four in the morning. but it’s fine, i’m fine! what, uh, what’s up?” 

there’s a pause, but yangyang can hear faint crackling, like breathing. 

“i just… i just got done with a shoot, is all.” yangyang frowns. 

“this late? can they do that?” 

hendery chuckles softly, and it’s a little rough in his throat. 

“it takes time to get those angles, yang. they changed my makeup like, three times; i guess the light was doing weird stuff.” yangyang hums, chewing on his lower lip. yuta’s advice from the other day floats into his head, delayed and wrapped under the haze of sleep. 

_he’ll be just as relieved._

he fiddles with the top sheet. “hendery?” 

“yeah?” hendery responds immediately, voice close and attentive. 

“i, um,” fuck, yangyang feels his chance slipping through his fingers with each nanosecond that ticks by. his palm is sweaty on the back of his phone. he doesn’t know what to say, how to say it. he’s still blinking sleep out of his eyes, it’s only the second of august and the ceiling fan is blowing his hair around. he’s not ready. 

“i… wanted to know how beijing is,” he finishes, and at least it’s not a total lie. 

“oh.” hendery says, flat. another pause. 

“it’s the city, you know, polluted as fuck, but you never run out of things to do. the nightlife is insane.” 

“yeah! yeah, i saw some of your pictures on twitter, it looked like fun.” yangyang bites down harder on his lip — he didn’t mean for that to come out so judgmental; he hopes his tone didn’t betray him. 

there’s yet another pause, and this one stretches. yangyang’s lip is bleeding again. 

“...yeah. it is. the models are good company.” 

ugh. great. yangyang doesn’t even know how this conversation has devolved so quickly into awkward semi-passive aggression, but he hates it. 

“um, did you need anything else?” he asks, in a hurry to end this call so he can wallow and think about how to fix his life. 

“yeah, actually. dejun won’t text me back, so i was wondering if you could head over there and check on the bamboo?” 

yangyang blinks in surprise. “i thought you said it was dead? non-resuscitable?” 

“yeah, well, i’m not really ready to give up on it,” hendery almost snaps, words sharp. 

“i mean—” 

“it’s fine,” yangyang cuts him off, free hand bunching the fabric of his sheets, knuckles white. 

“i can do it.” 

a sigh. 

“ok. yeah. the spare key’s on top of the doorframe.” 

“alright,” yangyang says, swallowing down blood. 

one beat, two. 

“bye, yang.” 

even though yangyang had been the one to initiate the end of the call, his heart still presses uncomfortably tight against his ribcage; beating a solid rhythm of _don’t-go, don’t-go._

“bye, hen. i’ll talk to you later.” 

the two beeps that sound his ear are suspiciously in time with his heart. 

  
  


**hungery Tweeted:**  
爱谁谁.  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/2338483..._

**@erhuii_ Replied:**  
lol who hurt him.  
**> @wwokil Replied:**  
don’t jump 2 conclusions. probably just learning stuff from beijing locals. 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “Whatever.”  
TN: Literally, this means “Who is that?” But Hendery is using it as the slang native to the Beijing area to mean, “whatever,” or “who cares.” 

**@jiucejiu Replied:**  
wowwwww lol these indirects just keep getting more blatant is he ok 

  
  


hendery’s apartment is, kind of, even more freaky without him in it. 

yangyang lets himself in early the next morning, dragging himself out of bed after tossing and turning for three more hours, unable to shake the feeling of discomfort after hanging up with hendery. when pale sunlight started filtering through his window, and the office workers started to pour out of the complex below, yangyang decided it was reasonable enough to head across town now, and pick up breakfast for himself and lucas on the way back. fine. normal. 

the key is where hendery said it was, and he’s now faced with dim, lifeless neon signs, a few books scattered on the various flat surfaces around the main room with bookmarks sticking out from the pages, and a keyboard off to one side of the couch. 

right, dejun would be home, yangyang almost forgot. it doesn’t seem like he’s awake yet; the edges of the door to the left of the room are cast in darkness. yangyang quietly makes his way to hendery’s room, closing the door behind him. 

it’s even freakier in here — the lights are off including the raunchier neon signs, and the bed is still unmade, sheets tangled and mussed. the cat calendar is still on june, featuring a golden-eyed tabby, and the closet door hangs open, gouged of most of its contents aside from a few belts, some hats, and hendery’s pink bathrobe. the bamboo sits on the windowsill. 

yangyang swallows, making his way over, trying not to take in how much this room smells of hendery, even weeks after his departure. the bamboo sits primly in its white pot, a bundle of four wrapped with pink ribbon. the leaves are still curling and yellow, but it’s alive, if barely. yangyang picks it up with careful hands, carrying it into the attached bathroom and gently putting it under the tap. he fills it until the water bubbles up under the decorative rocks, and puts it back on the windowsill, under the morning sunlight. 

he sighs, looking at it for a moment before moving to the calendar, flipping it past july and pinning up august; a pair of white kittens with icy blue eyes and pink paws. he drifts around, picking up a little, and makes hendery’s bed before letting himself back out into the living room. 

immediately, mournful guitar hits his ears, drifting from the dark room opposite him. when yangyang closes hendery’s door behind him, the music stops, and there’s some shuffling before dejun emerges, looking tired and mildly annoyed. 

his gaze lands on yangyang right away, and yangyang blinks, taking in his, for once, unobscured features; strong eyebrows and sharp cheekbones, he’s almost gaunt in the shadow of his door. yangyang’s caught glimpses, of course — dejun coming and going, bulky guitar case in hand, hair teased and fluffed, eyeliner making his already intense gaze even heavier. but he’s never exactly stopped to say hello, or offered breakfast when yangyang would spend the night, in fact, it occurs to him that he’s never actually heard dejun speak. 

“so. you’re the college kid?” 

well. check that one off the bucket list. dejun’s voice is thick, warm and flowing. he has an accent, like he didn’t grow up speaking mandarin. it’s such a contrast to hendery, whose words are light and quick, sharp and precise and always kind of on the edge of laughing, like everything's funny. yangyang can almost hear them arguing if he tries. 

“uh. yeah? i mean. i'm in college, so.” 

dejun purses his lips, tossing his sleep-ruffled brown hair out of his eyes, giving yangyang a short once-over. 

“i get it. i guess.” 

yangyang shifts awkwardly on his feet. “get what?” 

dejun rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the doorframe, striding into the kitchen and opening a cupboard. 

“why hendery’s so… uh. taken. i suppose.” 

a blush crawls up yangyang’s neck and he clears his throat, watching dejun remove a glass and turn to the sink to get water. he looks at yangyang again, a little curious. 

“you’re not his usual. he used to bring home these real built guys, like gym rats and stuff, older dudes. you’re so… normal.” 

yangyang’s stomach twists. 

“uh. is that a good thing?” 

dejun leans against the counter, crossing his ankles, sipping his water contemplatively. 

“probably good for him to have a solid dose of normal in his life.” he tilts his head back, draining the glass and setting it down behind him before continuing. 

“so. i don’t know what you guys’ like… situation is, but i’d like. appreciate it if you’d figure it out.” 

yangyang presses his lips together. tell him about it. 

“when hendery’s not having a good time, _no one’s_ having a good time, especially not _me,_ who has a gig coming up, and who would prefer it if hendery didn’t text me a million times a day asking about his stupid bamboo. and it would be especially inconvenient if he were to get so distraught that he came home early and took my rehearsal space again,” dejun looks, pained, out over the living room. 

yangyang blinks. 

“i don’t — ” 

“look,” dejun cuts him off. 

“clearly you two like each other. hendery hasn’t kept anyone around as long as you in all the time i’ve known him. and if you can put up with him for extended periods of time there must be something there. if i _must_ do something so loathsome as giving advice to my roommate’s boy toy, i have one word for you: attention.” 

yangyang cocks his head in question but doesn’t open his mouth, feeling that dejun’s not quite done. 

“that’s literally the key to his heart. whatever you’re thinking, just tell him. tell him twice. sing it, for all i care. there’s nothing he likes better than hearing someone talk about him. be direct.” he squints. 

“when’s your birthday?” 

yangyang, processing, taken aback, answers automatically. 

“october tenth.” 

dejun groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. 

“oh my god, ok, now i actually get it. yeah. so that advice goes double. _tell him.”_

and with that, dejun is slumping back to his room, yawning around a, “have fun with that, you libra fucks!” before closing his bedroom door. 

yangyang walks out in a daze, muffled guitar strums floating through his mind. 

  


he forgets breakfast. 

yangyang forgets breakfast, and lunch, and dinner, in fact, and only when lucas pokes his head out on the balcony with a take-out box does yangyang realize it. he’s been going over everything — _everything;_ from the night they met to now, even looking back over old tweets and pictures. he just wants to be _sure._ this can’t be one of those things where he _thinks_ he wants beef for dinner, but actually wants pasta. 

he wants to be ready. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
不久，上海。  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/624823..._

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 “Soon, Shanghai.” 

  
  


it’s august fifth. eleven p.m. yangyang’s thumb hovers over the call button. his other hand is wrapped around the railing, metal almost unbearably warm, still holding the heat of the sun. a light breeze blows over the balcony. 

he licks his lips, careful not to bite, and taps the screen. 

it rings once, twice, and yangyang forces himself to breathe after the third. a few seconds more. it goes to voicemail. 

_“hey, it’s huang hendery, why are you calling me? it’s 2020. dm me on twitter like a grown-up.”_

yangyang huffs a small laugh, but hangs up. if there’s ever been a bad omen, it’s hendery not picking up his phone. he can’t be at a shoot this late, right? he has a flight to shanghai tomorrow afternoon. fuck, this was a mistake. yangyang taps the home button, but before he can lock it, his phone buzzes insistently in his hand. 

**huang hendery (798,000+ followers)** _is calling…_

oh, god. yangyang nearly fumbles his phone so badly it goes tumbling off the balcony, but he manages to fit it into his hand, tapping the green button as he goes. 

“hello?” 

“hey, sorry, i was just about to call you, actually,” hendery says, sounding a little breathless. 

“i just —” 

“hen,” yangyang cuts him off. he has to do this while he has the nerve.

“hen, i wanted to talk to you, actually… do you have time?” 

the line goes quiet, but then, softly, 

“yeah, of course i have time, yang. what’s up?” 

yangyang squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, doesn’t bite his lips. 

“i was, um. i — god, sorry.” 

“it’s ok,” hendery says, still soft, sounding mildly concerned. yangyang takes another breath. the breeze ruffles his hair. 

“i miss you,” he says, because it’s true. that, at least, is easy to admit. 

“i miss you too,” hendery says, right away. yangyang smiles, breathes. 

“yeah?” 

“yeah. yeah, yangyang, i miss you.” yangyang swallows, feeling his heart pick up. 

“i miss you a lot, though… like. like so much it hurts.” he rushes the last part, words pushed together. 

there’s crackling, like hendery’s exhaled heavily. 

“oh.” 

yangyang drops his free hand into his lap, fingers bunching in the cotton of his shirt. 

“and i just... feel like it’s been weird, since you left? maybe not, maybe it’s just in my head, but, but i just don’t know what to do or — or if i should still like your tweets? or if you’ll get annoyed if i text you, and i just want to talk to you all the time, it’s been so weird without you, i guess, and i know, i know i can be like, a _lot_ and i didn’t want you to feel obligated especially since we’ve just been — been fucking, which is great! great, but i just,” 

yangyang semi-gasps in oxygen he desperately needs; his palms are sweaty and the hand holding the phone is shaking, but he’s in too deep now. 

“i just _miss_ you,” he says again, putting all the emotion, all the ache he’s been carrying around into that word. his voice is going to break. 

“i just _miss_ you and it’s been killing me, and i haven’t known how to — how to tell you, or if that’s _ok,_ or whatever, but. but what i do know is that i… i care a lot about you, hendery. i think you’re — you’re just amazing, and beautiful, and, and i? yeah.” 

yangyang huffs out his breath, stuttering and high in his sinuses. he’s worrying the hem of his shirt so much his thumb is starting to hurt, but he can’t stop, not when hendery’s absolutely silent on the other end. 

“yangyang,” he says, and his voice crackles through cold, freezing the phone to yangyang’s hand. 

“give me twenty minutes.” 

yangyang blinks, tears falling in surprise, confusion, panic. surely, surely he's ruined everything. 

“what? what do you mean?” his voice wavers, small and weak, stolen by the summer night. 

“i mean, give me twenty minutes. just. just hold on, ok? twenty minutes.” hendery sounds almost desperate, pleading. 

yangyang forces himself to swallow over the lump in his throat, wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. 

“um, ok?” 

“ok. hold on.” the line beeps twice. 

yangyang sits, dazed, for a few minutes, before heading back inside. he kind of just, stands, in the middle of the living room, hands twisting in the bottom of his shirt. lucas comes out of his room, bopping along to whatever’s playing in his headphones, but stops when he sees yangyang’s state. 

“whoa, man, you ok?” 

wide, warm eyes appear in front of him, and yangyang just sniffles. 

“yeah. yeah, sorry. i’m just. i’m just? waiting.” 

lucas rocks back on his heels. 

“for… what?” 

yangyang shakes his head, wiping his face again. 

“sorry, it’s — it’s nothing. i’ll be ok, xuxi.” he attempts a smile. 

lucas frowns, but leaves him be, continuing his path to get midnight snacks from the kitchen. 

yangyang can’t bring himself to sit down, can’t relax. he’s checking the time, pacing a little, checking the time again. eighteen minutes have passed when there’s knocking at the door. 

lucas pokes his head out of his room, “do you want me to get it?” 

yangyang jumps, nearly tripping over himself on his way to answer. 

“what? no, no, i got it!” 

he grips the door handle, heart pounding in his chest. it couldn’t be hendery. hendery’s in beijing, he’ll be in shanghai this time tomorrow. hendery’s five hundred kilometers away. he meant something else — maybe he got another call, or he was in the middle of something. 

and yet, yangyang twists the handle, pulls the door open, and, 

and there’s huang fucking hendery, in yangyang’s doorway, for the second time in his life. 

“wh-what? what, what are you doing here? wh —” 

he doesn’t get to continue his tearful question, because hendery pushes forward through the doorframe, cold hands coming up to hold yangyang’s shoulder, the back of his head, and then he’s kissing him. kissing him like crazy, kissing him stupid, and yangyang, shocked, parts his lips automatically, because with hendery it just _happens_. 

they stumble, weight imbalanced, but grab onto each other’s clothes — hendery has a windbreaker on and yangyang’s nails scratch against the material. hendery’s breathing him in, and _oh,_ yangyang understands now, why he does that, because he’s doing it too, because hendery smells like travel and strange soap and new clothes, but he still smells like _him,_ impossibly, and it’s better than oxygen. 

hendery’s hand, unbearably gentle, smooths down the hair at yangyang’s nape, holds him close, closer than close, then pulls back. his face, flushed red, comes into focus, and his eyes are alight. 

“i changed my flight. that’s why i was gonna call you. i just landed, got a taxi.” he’s breathless, still, like he was on the phone but times a million; his chest is heaving. 

yangyang can’t do anything, he just tightens his grip on the windbreaker, asks, “why?” 

“i hated how we talked before, and the stupid bamboo — i, i just had to see you, yang, i _had_ to. i missed you so bad.” he’s patting yangyang’s shoulders over and over again, as if to make sure he’s real, he’s there. 

yangyang releases his grip, fingers cramped, and moves his hands to hendery’s face, to his jaw. he’s warm, almost overheated, cheeks still flushed. 

“hendery, i — i,” he shakes his head, overwhelmed. 

“i know,” hendery says. 

“i know, baby. wow,” he leans back, looking at yangyang helplessly. 

“absence really does make the heart grow fucking fonder, huh? fuck.” and he pulls yangyang in again, just a for a hug this time. yangyang holds him tight around the waist, thinking he’d rather not let go anytime soon. 

“listen,” hendery says after a minute. 

“listen, let’s sit down huh? i sprinted up the stairs, ‘cause i couldn’t wait for the elevator,” he laughs, and yangyang nods, taking hendery’s hand and leading him into his bedroom, where they sit on his still floor-bound mattress, facing each other. they haven’t stopped holding hands. 

“i missed you,” hendery says again, and yangyang grins, relieved. 

“feel better, huh?” 

hendery bows his head, resting his forehead on their joined hands. 

“it was miserable, yang. i wanted to talk to you all the time, too, like, i’d get done with a shoot and i’d just want to _talk_ to you, not even like, get off or whatever.” 

yangyang blushes, though it’s dark enough in the room that he thinks hendery won’t notice. 

“like, the other models are nice and everything, but i just wanted to ask you about school, and lucas, and how your parents are,” yangyang winces at this, but hendery lifts his head, and he looks so sincere. 

and yangyang doesn’t know what possesses him, but he says, “lucas isn’t hot.” 

“what?” hendery looks at him, eyes wide. 

“lucas isn’t hot. or, if he is, you’re hotter.” 

hendery blinks, then smiles, then laughs, head thrown back, cackling. 

“oh my god, babe. does it make me like, unforgivably shallow if i said that actually makes me feel better?” 

yangyang shakes his head, smiling sheepishly. 

“i just — on the phone, before, when you asked i — i didn’t know what you meant. sorry.” 

hendery shrugs, squeezes his hand. 

“i was only a _little_ jealous. and i had yuta give me the details after he came over, so i was already reassured.” 

“ugh, i _knew_ you must have put him up to that!” 

hendery giggles, tapping his fingers on the back of yangyang’s hand. 

“i just wanted to check up on my yangyang! make sure this lucas fellow hadn’t seduced you into a life of debauchery and partying.” 

yangyang rolls his eyes, “no, only _you_ get to do that.” 

hendery laughs again, more softly, but his face falls back into seriousness after a moment. yangyang bites his lip. 

hendery clears his throat, sitting up straight and readjusting his legs on the bed. 

“speaking of, i have something to ask,” and he looks shy, worried. 

“oh?” yangyang swallows. 

there’s a pause, and somehow it’s worse than the ones on the phone. 

“come to shanghai with me.” 

yangyang’s heart seizes, his lungs freeze. 

“what?” he breathes. 

“come to shanghai with me. tomorrow. i booked two tickets.” 

he looks yangyang in the eye, brows pushed together, mouth set. yangyang blinks. 

“ _tomorrow?_ like, like for how long?” 

hendery takes his other hand, too, elbows on his knees, black hair falling into his eyes. 

“i can fly you back as soon as the semester starts, or even before that, you’d just have to say the word. you’d stay in the hotel, with me, my agency takes care of the cost. if you don’t want to, i can just cancel the ticket, no pressure.” it’s the fastest yangyang’s heard him talk. 

he takes a breath. 

fuck. 

this isn’t — yangyang wasn’t expecting this. he wasn’t expecting _any_ of this, but especially not this. he… he just moved into a new place! the semester starts in mere weeks, he can’t just pick up and leave, he’s… not ready. 

he’s not ready. 

but, when it comes to hendery, he never is. 

"ok," he says. 

a smile pushes at hendery's lips. "ok?" he asks. 

yangyang nods, firmly. 

"ok." 

hendery's smile blooms, and he's leaning forward, kissing yangyang, and when he detaches, moving to a hug, yangyang knows exactly what he's going to say next. 

"bingo," he breathes into yangyang's neck. 

"right answer." 

"do i get extra credit for this one?" yangyang asks, and hendery leans back, looking at him, and his eyes are burning with something so intense yangyang thinks he'll catch on fire any moment now. 

"always," he replies. 

  
  


**hungery.. Tweeted:**  
boxenstopp 😊 現在，上海！  
_http://twitter.com/gothiquenanhai99/status/7482643..._

**@nakamewtwo Replied:**  
HEHHHAEHA OHHHH MY GOD HEN DM ME THIS INSTANT 

**@qinhao_ Replied:**  
um. excuse me? HUH? 

**hendery dm me @qinhao_ Tweeted:**  
so you are telling me. that hendery flew BACK to his hometown. to pick up the german boy. and is flying BACK to shanghai. with said german boy. fellas is it gay 

**Huang Hendery Updates! @hhendery_network Tweeted:**  
@gothiquenanhai99 "[in German] pit-stop 😊 [in Chinese] now, Shanghai!"  
**> @hhendery_network Replied:**  
We are now looking for German translators! 

  


**yang^2 @dragonb00ts Tweeted:**  
.@hhendery_network i could probably give it a try 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so much for reading!!!! please let me know what you thought, i would love feedback!! favorite parts, how it serves as a continuation of dti, etc.!
> 
> u can find me on twitter!  
> [main](https://twitter.com/lookslikerain)  
> [fic acc](https://twitter.com/rouxberrv)


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